This 58-year-old immigrant’s SF corner store is so loved that people throw birthday parties there

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Elie Chahwan doesn't throw things away.

Valentino Market, which the 58-year-old Lebanese immigrant has owned and operated for 17 years, is more than just a place to buy snacks or a bottle of wine – it's a living museum to Cow Hollow residents.

Photos of customers line the walls, showing them growing from babies to young adults. Receipts he found under a crawlspace date back 100 years, to when it was a wholesale operation. He keeps a photobook of black and white pictures of the neighborhood when the streets were full of horse-drawn buggies, and shelves overflow with donated antiques from the same era. A refrigerator-worthy drawing from a 5-year-old customer proclaims it to be "The Best Store in the Galaxy," a sentiment shared by a trio of commemorative plaques from the California Senate, House, and Mayor.

The place has soul, but more importantly heart. Elie (pronounced eel-ee) is the only person on-staff and seems to (/maybe actually does?) know every customer's name. Enough so that customers have their Amazon deliveries sent to the shop for safekeeping. He's clearly a local legend, but when asked why Valentino has become such a neighborhood favorite, he pauses like he's never considered it.

"This business is hospitality and service," he says. "It has to be you. You have to be nice to people. I'm not perfect, but I try, I'm here 12 or 13 hours a day."

The community has noticed his dedication, to say the least. He keeps several boxes of Christmas cards behind the counter and even more at home. Every year kids decorate his car for the Union Street Easter Parade and their parents throw birthday parties at the shop. Two years ago Elie had a heart attack, and his customers delivered pages and pages of well wishes to the hospital. The store is filled with custom Elie merchandise gifted by customers, from a blue baseball cap with bright yellow print that reads "Elie is cool" to a custom bobblehead showing him as a cowboy (check out the slideshow above to see the heart-warming Elie schwag).

"When I moved here, I really wanted to do a country store. I guess I'm a cowboy at heart," he says, pointing to a photo of him dressed as a sheriff for Halloween.

Every year customers throw him a surprise birthday party, which typically features a vocal performance from one of his favorite customers, Emilio Bernardini, an Italian American WWII veteran who happened to stop in during my visit (which he does every day).

"Not only does he run a shop. Anything you need, you can ask him," says Bernardini, after a light round of teasing. "My wife had a stroke and I called him because I couldn't move her. This was on a Saturday night. He closed the store to come and help me. The ambulance came, but he stayed with me until 2:30 in the morning. Who else does that? That's the way it is."

The anecdote brought Elie to tears.

"Sometimes one customer makes your whole month," he says a few minutes later.

Photo: Blair Heagerty / SFGate

Elie poses with Emilio Bernardini, a regular customer who he treats more like a family member.

Another reason Elie has become such a fixture is that he treats everyone equally. Sean Penn regularly sat outside the shop drinking coffee, but Elie never bothered him for a photo. When Oakland quarterback Bruce Gradkowski lived down the street, they became good friends, and the neighbors insisted Elie get an autograph.

"I come from a war country, zero sports," he explains. "So, I gave him a baseball. He signed it and said, 'Elie, do you know what I do?' I said, 'You play baseball for the Raiders.'"

Although Elie clearly loves his job, it's not an easy life. He Facetimes with his extended family in Lebanon every day, but he's so focused on the shop that he's never settled down to marry. Finding quality help is also a challenge now that potential part-time employees make more money driving for ride-sharing companies. Regulations on tobacco products have driven down business. Although his private label brand of wine bottled in Lodi still sells well, the more expensive bottles in his 55 degree cellar don't move like they used to (although he now sells much more White Claw).

Still, it's not a lifestyle that he'd trade for anything, mainly because of his role in the community. Sure, the neighbors need a place to buy drinks and snacks, but they also need a caretaker, a father figure, or just someone to ask about their day. Hospitality isn't about what you're selling, it's about you.

"I'm very blessed. I'm away from my family, everybody is in Lebanon, but they are my family," he says of his customers. "It's hard, but true people here can make you live like a king. You forget all your problems."

Dan Gentile is an SFGATE digital editor and is currently accepting suggestions on other inspirational corner store owners. Email: dan.gentile@sfgate.com | Twitter:@dannosphere